


Brave

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 07:00:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20336005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Brave

“Ride home?”

Aziraphale watches him walk away, clutching the bag to his chest. Inside his chest, his heart is beating rapidly and it’s not because of the adrenaline (there hasn’t been much of that to be fair). It’s because Crowley’s hand brushed against his just now. 

For the first time, he can feel the heat, that little spark and he knows that it’s always been there. He just wasn’t aware of it until now.

“Crowley,” he says loud enough for Crowley to stop and turn around.

“What is it, angel?”

Aziraphale swallows around the lump in his throat and makes eye contact with him.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”

Crowley gives him a crooked smile.

“Oh, please. It’s fine.”

“No, but... is there anything I can do for you in return?”

Crowley raises his eyebrows.

“You don’t have to look so surprised.”

“I’m not. I’m just... you really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Aziraphale insists and steps closer.

“Can you invite me in?”

Aziraphale blinks in surprise.

“For sleep, of course. I really miss a good night’s sleep but I understand if that’s not what you meant by doing me a favo-.”

The end of the sentence is muffled into Aziraphale’s shoulder as he pulls him into a hug. 

“Listen to me,” he says softly, “we are going home tonight. I don’t care that it’s dangerous. If that’s what you want, we can do it.”

Crowley squeezes his arms around his waist and pulls back. The smile he gives Aziraphale is dazzling. 

“You sure?”

“Sure.”

Aziraphale links their elbows and they walk towards the Bentley.

Aziraphale doesn’t have to describe the way to his bookshop. Instead, he uses his powers to direct the car through the empty streets because he grows quite fond of the silence that settled between them, sees no reason to disturb it. 

Only when they get out and walk up to the door, Aziraphale finds that reason. 

“After you,” Aziraphale chirps as he holds the door open for him. 

Crowley rolls his eyes but does pass through the door without a comment. 

Aziraphale can see his curiosity in the way he makes a note of everything - the stacked bookshelves, the ancient paintings above the bookshelves, the piano, the gramophone. The longer Crowley spends silently looking around, the more nervous Aziraphale feels.

“Don’t you like it?” Aziraphale asks when he can’t possibly hold it back anymore.

Crowley turns around to look at him. 

“Like it? You’re asking me if I like it?”

“Can you blame me? I care about this place and I care about your opinion.”

Crowley smiles at that.

“This place is basically who you are. Everything here says something about your personality. When you ask if I like this place, you’re basically asking if I like you.”

“Well, do you?”

Crowley gapes at him, his expression a pure disbelief.

“Not when you ask stupid questions like that.”

Aziraphale pouts.

“For Christ’s sake, angel. I love it, alright? It’s fucking gorgeous. Happy?”

“I might be yes. Thank you.”

He smiles at him and Crowley just glares at him. .

What Crowley doesn’t see, however, is the blush that’s crept on his cheeks. Before he has the chance of noticing, Aziraphale moves past him further into the shop, not stopping to check if he’s following or not.

In the kitchen, he sets up two cups of tea and while he waits for the water to boil, he hears Crowley going through the shelves, picking up random books and flipping through them. Maybe it’s good that he’s here. That way Aziraphale knows he’s safe. That way he can protect him, should Hell come after him. At least tonight, he can.

He walks out of the kitchen a few minutes later and finds Crowley sprawled across the sofa with a couple of books on his chest, sleeping. The sight of him like that makes him smile.

Gently, he picks up the books and sets them aside. He snatches a blanket from the nearest armchair and without touching him too much, wraps it around his frame. And then, because he simply must, he leans over to plant a kiss on his forehead. Just when he’s about to pull away, Crowley opens his eyes and stares up at him. 

Aziraphale freezes. The proximity sets his heart racing. He can see the whole constellation of his freckles like that. There’s the breath on his cheeks, warm and tingling and as he keeps his eyes locked on his, he wonders where his own breath has gone.

Crowley notices the blanket on top of him and he smiles. 

“You thought I was sleeping.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks heat up again. This time he can’t hide it so well.

“You said you wanted to sleep as I recall.”

“Amongst other things.”

“What other things?”

Crowley shakes his head.

“Just things.”

Aziraphale frowns but in a way, he understands. He has things that he wants to do too, even though he knows he shouldn’t. But maybe, there’s one thing, one thing that he could do.

“Scoop.”

“What?”

“Move... you know what, never mind.”

The sofa expands suddenly so that Aziraphale can fit next to Crowley without Crowley having to feel suffocated. He lies down next to him.

“Is this alright?”

Aziraphale holds his breath, suddenly worried he might have overstepped. 

To his surprise, Crowley snuggles closer to him and closes his eyes. 

“It’s quite perfect.”


End file.
